


Invisible: The Boy in the Reflection

by tustin2121



Series: Tustin2121's Pride Tales Anthology [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Based on a Dream, College, Coming Out, Gay Male Character, Gay Panic, Invisibility, M/M, Metaphors, POV First Person, Random & Short, Religious Guilt, Short One Shot, Slice of Life, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:14:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29953257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tustin2121/pseuds/tustin2121
Summary: I swear, I'm not insane! There really is an invisible guy in my chemistry class! I can only really get glimpses of him in reflections; I can't see him directly. How is nobody else freaked out by this?! Does nobody else care?! And what on God's green earth did I even do to make my roommate think this is some sort of crush?! I-I'm not even gay! Wh-why would you even th-think that?!
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: Tustin2121's Pride Tales Anthology [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2105298
Kudos: 1





	Invisible: The Boy in the Reflection

I noticed him for the first time at the end of the fourth week of classes. It was my freshman year. Me and a bunch of my classmates were in the elevator in the chemistry building, on our way back down to ground level after lecture. We were all talking and laughing as we entered the elevator, and I ended up near the button panel. I pressed the buttons for the upper and lower lobbies, as was common courtesy; the chemistry building was on a steep hill, and so some students left via the upper lobby to head to upper campus, while others went three floors lower to exit in the direction of the buildings on lower campus.

It was shortly after pressing the elevator buttons that I noticed him. There was a gold-colored plaque above the button panel, dedicating the elevator to someone or other, which had been recently polished to a mirror shine. And it was in this reflection that I noticed him, looking downcast at the floor, holding his backpack near his legs, seemingly trying to take up as little space in the crowded elevator as possible. Maybe he was so noticeable today because everyone else around him on the elevator, including myself, was laughing and chattering about plans for the upcoming weekend. In contrast, he was extremely gloomy, introverted, and at least like a head shorter than everyone else.

I looked around at him, intending to ask him what was wrong and try to comfort him… but he wasn’t there. I looked back at the reflection in the plaque: the boy was standing there gloomily next to my roommate. But when I looked at where he should have been directly, he was gone. Was this some sort of trick? I looked at the reflection and shifted to the side; he wasn’t part of the plaque or anything. He was in the reflection, and only in the reflection...

At this point, the elevator arrived at the upper lobby, and half the people in the elevator pushed forward to leave. I glanced at the gold plaque again, trying to catch him leaving, but I had lost sight of him. Once the doors closed, I counted heads and tried to count the same in the gold plaque, but I didn’t have the viewing range to do so from my angle, and I was already looking foolish enough staring at the plaque so much; my roommate had his eyebrows raised at me in curiosity.

“Jay?” he asked me, using my name as an implied _Are you okay?_. I simply shook my head and dropped the search.

* * *

It wasn’t until Monday when I was reminded of the anomaly again upon getting into the elevator. I was nowhere near the golden plaque this time, but I realized that the stainless steel walls of the elevator reflected vague vertical streaks of color from those inside. I counted bodies around me: thirteen. I then started trying to count bodies in the reflections, but it was proving difficult given how hazy the reflections were. That was when I noticed that the girl by the door had on a red hoodie, but didn’t seem to have a red reflection. The grey reflection shifted position, even though the girl remained still. This reflection clearly didn’t belong to her; it must have belonged to that boy I couldn’t see.

The elevator reached the upper lobby, and I kept an eye on the grey reflection as it shifted to the side, seemingly allowing people to get by him and off the elevator. The door closed, and the grey reflection without a visible owner shifted back to its previous position. Now with fewer people in the elevator, I could do a subtle headcount: five people, including myself. Six reflections. This was so weird. I wanted to ask what his deal was, but I didn’t want to seem like an idiot to everyone else, shouting at the empty air, demanding the air show himself.

The elevator doors opened, and everyone filed out, down the long thin hallway towards the east entrance of the building. The hallway eventually opened up into the lower lobby, which was a moderately large single-floor area. The lobby had giant full-length glass pane windows looking out onto the street outside. It was scattered with a half-dozen armchairs next to these windows. And the wall to your left as you left the building was entirely a mirror, making the room look twice as big as it actually was.

There were four people in front of me as I had walked down the hallway to the lower lobby. But when I looked into the mirror wall as I entered the lobby, there were five. Leading the group towards the exit was the mysterious invisible boy: he was short, with a mop of dirty-blonde messy hair, fair skin, and a stocky-looking build — though that could have been the middle-grey featureless hoodie and darker grey sweat pants he had on giving him that look. He was carrying a simple black backpack, using only one of the two straps to wear it.

There was no way I didn’t look like an idiot to anyone else, as I stopped to gawk at him in the mirror. I watched as he pushed through the airlock double doors to the outside ahead of everyone else. No one else seemed to be able to see him, but then they also didn’t seem to have noticed anything wrong with someone who was presumably completely invisible opening up the door in front of them. What the heck was wrong with me, then, that I noticed this and that I’m freaking out so much about it??

* * *

For the next couple of weeks, I continued to keep an eye out for the mysterious guy in the mirror. By the middle of the second week, I had pinpointed where he sat in class thanks to reflections in the windows. And that Friday, as the rest of the class was packing up and leaving, I noticed the professor seemingly talking to empty air as if there was a person standing there in front of him. And no one else seemed to care, apparently finding this whole phenomenon utterly mundane.

It was that same Friday when my newfound obsession with this invisible boy started to come back to bite me. Back in my dorm room, my roommate asked to compare notes with me, and I realized I had barely taken any that day. I had been too busy puzzling over the invisible boy’s predicament, trying to spot him in the reflections of the windows and the chrome curves of the faucets in the chemistry lab desks.

“What’s gotten into you lately?” he asked, concerned.

“What do you mean?” I asked in return.

“We’re supposed to be lab partners, but you’ve been distracted these past couple weeks, and… you know, I’ve had to pick up the slack a bit.”

There was a mirror on the wall behind him that I could see myself in. I exchanged a look with myself. “It’s nothing,” I assured him, looking back at my notes.

“It clearly isn’t nothing,” he said, “You can tell me. Maybe I can help?”

Maybe he _could_ help me figure this thing out. “You haven’t seen that guy in class, have you?”

He raised an eyebrow, “What guy in class? There’s a lot of guys in class.”

“I mean, it’s obvious, isn’t it? Or, maybe it’s not obvious… I can only look at him in reflections, after all…”

“What are you talking about?” he said, irritated.

The problem was, I didn’t know how to explain this without sounding insane. It’s not like I could just say, _You know, the invisible guy! Haven’t you seen him?_ Because that would sound insane.

Before I could formulate a good excuse for an explanation, however, my roommate’s face broke into a sudden grin: “Do you have a _crush?_ ”

I blinked, “What?”

“Well, you’re flustered, distracted, trying to steal covert glances at a guy in reflections… I’ve been there, trying to steal glances at girls I've had crushes on. ‘Cause staring is just rude, right? Back in eighth grade—”

“Wait, n-no!” I snapped, cutting him off, “I-I don’t have a crush on him!” My reflection behind him was red with fury at this implication.

“Oh, okay, yeah, that’s _totally_ not the reaction of someone who has a secret crush,” he winked.

“Nate, I swear to God.”

“It’s fine, I won’t tell anyone,” he assured me.

“It’s not a crush!” I demanded again, “I’m not even gay!”

His face froze in confusion for several seconds before he said in a disbelieving tone, an octave higher than before, “Right, of course. My mistake, I just assumed…”

“Well, you assumed wrong!” I said firmly.

“Right, sure, my bad,” he said disingenuously, averting his eyes, “You do you.”

“What makes you even think that?!” I demand.

“Look, let’s just… forget I said anything,” he was grabbing his bag, “I’m gonna go see if Hagop’s back from classes and compare notes with him.” He quickly left the dorm room, leaving me staring open-mouthed after him.

I mean, why would he even _think_ that?! What did I ever do to give him the impression that I’m gay? _‘Cause I’m not!_ It’s not like I’m swishy and effeminate like you always see on TV. And it’s not like I’m some sexual deviant like they always talked about in those bible study groups I was forced to go to as a kid… And just because I like to look at Nate’s butt whenever he changes into his gym shorts or… strips naked and puts on a towel… for his shower in the morning… _that doesn’t make me gay!_ Shut up, no it doesn’t!

And, like, this obsession isn’t even a gay one! I literally can’t look at the guy! He’s invisible! That alone should disqualify this whole debate! Yes, he’s… _attractive_ , but like, that’s _not the point! Why_ is he invisible?! Is this some undiscovered superpower? Does his rendering code have a problem in it that’s causing him to not show up like this was some sort of buggy video game? Is he a ghost? And if he’s a ghost, why is he haunting my chemistry class? Like, who is this guy?! What’s his deal? And why is he always haunting my dreams?!

* * *

Anyway, it wasn’t until the following Friday when things happened to escalate. I had noticed the professor talking to the air again, and had stalled long enough to be the last of the class to leave. I joined the line waiting for the elevator. There was a wall display near the elevator, one of those bulletin boards with locked plexiglass over it. It was just reflective enough for me to see myself in it… and the invisible guy standing behind me in his usual grey sweats. He was engrossed in organizing his backpack for transport. He zipped it up and flung it onto his back. He checked the time on his phone, and then looked up at the bulletin board… up at me, staring at him in the reflection. We quickly broke eye contact. Even after I chanced a glance back at him, he had turned his back and was seemingly engrossed in reading some flier on the wall opposite, pinned up next to a notice saying not to post fliers on the walls.

When the elevator came, eight people got on. I had managed to get in by the buttons again, duly pressing both the upper and lower lobby buttons. I saw via the gold plaque that the invisible guy was standing opposite me, near the door. To see him properly via the reflection, I had to lean into the corner of the elevator, which I did as nonchalantly as possible. There was some minor conversation between a couple people, of someone whom they were meeting shortly, before the elevator fell into an uncomfortable quiet.

We stopped at the upper lobby. It seemed everyone was heading to upper campus today, because by the time the doors closed, me and the invisible boy — yes, he was still in the reflections — were alone in the elevator. For the first time ever, it was just me and him. We had at most forty seconds together before the doors would open on the lower lobby level. We were both averting our eyes: me because I could only see him properly in the reflection of the gold plaque next to me, he presumably to not have to make eye contact with a complete stranger and consummate loser like myself.

I tried to make my voice as completely natural as possible. What came out next sounded so very stupid and obtuse regardless: “Hey, you okay?”

The boy briefly glanced up at me, saw me staring at the plaque, and presumably thought I was on a phone or something. He returned to staring at the wall and didn’t reply.

This was already going horribly. I briefly considered whether I should even try again, or if I should just pretend I am talking to someone else on the phone. No, this might be the only chance I get to figure out his deal. Steeling myself, I forced myself to look at the hazy reflection of his back on the far wall, where he was leaning. “H-Hey dude, are you okay?”

I saw his head turn again, then frantically look around to see if anyone else was in the elevator. He then pointed a finger at himself, as if asking, _Are you talking to me?_

“Yeah. H-How are you?”

“Oh, uh…” He speaks! His voice was vaguely raspy and soft-spoken, as if he didn’t speak up very much usually, “I-I-I’m alright…”

I don’t know what I honestly expected him to answer. “Really?” I asked, chancing a glance at the golden plaque for a read on his face. I wasn’t sure if it was the gold tinting or if he was blushing. “Y-You don’t look it…”

“D-D-Don’t I?” he squeaked softly.

“Yeah, uh… you look…” Invisible. Contemplative. Cute. Hidden. Depressed. Handsome. Chameleon-like. Lonely. Adorable. Ghostly. Defeated. Attractive. Reflective. “Un _seen?_ ” Oh god, why was _THAT_ the word I chose to voice?

Strangely, the guy chuckled humorlessly at what I said. “You, uh… don’t know the half of it…” At that moment, the elevator door dinged and opened. “I gotta go…”

“Wait!” I called reflexively as I saw his reflections move towards the door. “Maybe we—"

“I gotta get to class. I’m already late. Sorry,” he said quickly as he dipped out of the elevator. I heard his footfalls echoing down the hallway at an accelerated rate: he was running… running away from me. I looked out after him, but of course, I couldn’t see him. Instead, in the distant lower lobby, I saw a door, then a second beyond it, bang open seemingly of their own accord. He was gone. The elevator door closed before I could muster the will to leave.

* * *

“Jay? Jayyyy…. Jeremy! Wake up!”

“Huh?” I looked up in alarm, suddenly coming back to the present, where I was sitting in a booth in the Market District with my friends from my dormitory floor. My roommate Nate had been the one to snap me out of my reverie. Hagop and Greg were sitting with us, Hagop and Nate on the outside of the booth.

“Dude, have you actually _eaten_ any of those fries you’ve been playing with for the past fifteen minutes?!” Hagop said.

“Yeah,” Nate added, “You’ve been zoned out hard. We’ve had like a full-on political discussion going on over here.”

“Are you gonna actually eat those, or can I take some?” Greg asked.

I looked down at my plate of cold fries and a semi-eaten burger. “Uh, go ahead. I’m not that hungry.”

Greg reached over and took a majority of the fries left on my plate. Nate leaned in: “Is this about that… thing we were talking about last week?”

“Huh?” I ask, barely registering what he meant. Did I talk with him about the unseen guy? I guess I did… sort of…

“oooOOooo,” Hagop said, intrigued, “A ’thing’! How secretive.”

I sighed reluctantly, “Yes, it’s about him.”

“Oh, a ‘him’,” Hagop added cheekily, "Getting lots of details here.”

Nate glanced at Hagop across from him before asking, “Is it still just the same, or has there been a development?” he asked carefully.

“I spoke with him,” I replied, “briefly, in the elevator after class.” I thought over the brief exchange for the thirtieth time. “He just seems so lonely… like no one sees him… like he’s always so alone…”

There was a brief pause before Greg, his hand to his mouth to cover his half-chewed food, said, “Are we talking about a lost puppy or something?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m getting from this too,” Hagop agreed.

“No,” Nate said, “This is some guy in our chemistry class.”

“ _Our_ class?” Hagop clarified, “I don’t recall seeing any lonely guys in our class. Though,” he made a suggestive face in Greg’s direction, “have you seen that girl sitting in front of me? _Whoo_ is she something! If only she was ‘lonely’ some night, and I could help her with it, amirite?”

The other guys giggled and started comparing other girls in the class. I rolled my eyes and returned to my musings about the invisible guy…

* * *

That Monday, during the chemistry lab, I noticed the invisible guy get a phone call suddenly in the middle of class. I watched in the glass fronts of the chemical hoods along the wall as he grabbed his things and jogged out of the classroom, answering his phone as he walked. No one else seemed to have watched him walk out of class. He didn’t return.

It wasn’t until after class, when I was walking through the lower lobby, when I spotted him again. His backpack was visible in the lobby’s mirror wall, sitting next to one of the large armchairs, which had been turned to face the mirror. I saw the bag before I spotted him, curled up in the chair, his hand through his dirty-blonde hair, his face wet with tears. I stopped dead when I saw him like this, and the people behind me had to dodge around me on their way out of the building.

For what must have been several minutes, I struggled with what I wanted to do. How weird would I seem to him? How insane would I look to others? Is this the right thing to do, or should I just mind my own business? My body had apparently come to a conclusion long before my mind did, because I found myself pulling out a half-empty packet of travel tissues from my bag. I was moving towards him, staring at him in the mirror, ready to do this while my mind was still panicking about the implications. I tapped him on the arm with the tissue packet.

He startled, looking up at the mirror in front of him, seeing me holding tissues out to him. “Oh…” he said in his delicate and torn voice, “Th-thank you.” He took the packet and pulled out a tissue. He made to hand it back to me, but I waved him off, as I was pulling up an armchair.

“What’s wrong?” I whispered at him, "Why are you crying?”

The guy blew his nose. “Uh… my, uh… my grandmother just passed away…”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say reflexively, staring at the guy through the mirror wall.

“Yeah, uh… thanks.… Sh-she was losing her battle with cancer these past few weeks…” He took a deep breath, sniffed, and added, “She was the, uh... only one who… really _saw_ me…” He was playing absentmindedly with a tiny silver cross hung from his necklace. “She was the only one who didn’t immediately threaten to… sign me up for conversion therapy or… exorcism…” He reached down and lifted his backpack up onto his knee. As he did so, I glimpsed a gold and rainbow pin, pinned to the inside wall of the bag. He touched it, and began saying, “She even…” But sobbed and shook his head, interrupting himself, “Why am I even telling you this? You don’t care. You don’t need to know this. What the hell is wrong with me?"

“No, it’s okay,” I whispered, “I know what you mean… I… I see you too…”

I turned to look at him directly, and did indeed see him staring back at me from his chair.

“After all,” I said sheepishly, “We, uh… we ’sinners’ have to stick together, right?” I held out my hand to him, to hold in comfort.

He looked between me and my hand for a moment, then broke out into shaking silent laughs which quickly devolved into more intense crying. He took my hand and held onto it like an overboard sailor hanging on to his lifeline in a sudden storm. He broke down into more audible sobbing and more tissue use. I scooted my chair towards him and decided I didn’t need to go to my other classes that day.

* * *

My roommate looked up at me in alarm as I came into the dorm room around eleven that night. “There you are! I was worried you got hit by a bus or something! Why didn’t you show up to class or dinner or anything!” Then, sudden concern spread across his face, “You look like hell. What have you been up to?”

“Uh… c-comforting Tyler,” I replied.

Nate blinked. “Who?”

“The, uh… the guy from chemistry class…” I explained, dropping my stuff and sitting down on my bed opposite him, “His grandma died today, and we kind of hung out and talked a lot about it and about being not-straight and all sorts of other stuff.”

Nate shook his head, closing his laptop and setting it aside. “Okay, woah, you’re giving me whiplash here. Start from the beginning.”

I chuckled. I guess it did happen really quickly today. “Tyler is the guy in chemistry who I was… who I was crushing on,” I admitted reluctantly. “He’s been down in the dumps recently because his grandma was dying. She passed away today; he got the call in the middle of class.”

“That kid who ran out of class today?”

“Yeah, him.” I guess other people were always capable of seeing him; they just chose not to. “He was crying in the lower lobby of the chemistry building, and I hung out with him and we chatted about all sorts of things. He grew up in a religious home, like I did, and… we saw a lot of the same shows and discussed our childhood crushes, and struggling with being… with liking… guys, and… Eventually, we went to eat together at Market when we got really hungry…”

“Hang on, hang on, hang on…” Nate stopped me, smiling, “Since when have _you_ been gay?”

“I didn’t say that,” I mumbled reflexively.

“ _No_ , but a couple weeks ago, you were _vehemently denying_ it. Now you’re just… not quite admitting it.”

“I mean, I didn’t…” I hesitated, “I’m not… It’s just…” Nate was eyeing me meaningfully. I sighed, defeated, “Okay, yeah, I… I guess… maybe I am… a little bit… It wasn’t really… a _thing_ until I was talking with Tyler about it today, alright? And like… I dunno, he’s like my mirror image. I saw myself in him and I just… I just… sort of _came out_ to him… indirectly…”

“Well, good for you, dude,” Nate said, reaching over to reassuringly pat my knee, “I’m just surprised you decided to come out to a completely random stranger first instead of someone you know, like me.”

“I…” I considered the floor for a bit, thinking, “you know… it’s just… h-he kinda came out to me first… and like… he was extremely vulnerable and really needed help and… I wanted to help him, and I felt like I had to tell him how… I’m in the same boat, I know what he’s going through…” I sighed and added, “And, like… there wasn’t really a chance he would lash out at me or anything…”

Nate looked hurt, “I wasn’t gonna lash out. I already knew you were gay, and I was trying to be cool about it. So you could tell me properly…"

“You didn’t _know_ , you _guessed_ ,” I retorted, a bit angry at what he’s implying.

“It was an educated guess,” he said, averting his eyes to the wall.

“What does that mean? How would you know I was… _you know_ … before even _I_ was ready to admit it to myself? I’m _still_ not really ready to admit it to myself..."

Nate gave a hesitant chuckle, “Dude… you’re… kinda obvious?”

“Excuse me?” I asked alarmed.

“Yeah, you know… you never participate when me, Hagop, and Greg are talking about girls. I’ve caught you _at least_ twice looking at me when I change.” I avert my eyes sheepishly as he thinks for a moment, “That one night you got drunk the first week of school, you got like super flirty with me and a couple other guys… And, of course, the porn.”

“What.” My attention goes razor sharp.

“Yeah, that one time I got back early from the class that got canceled?” He said grinning, “When you were obviously looking at porn while I was away? I don’t mind, I do the same sometimes when you go to class.”

“Yes, you’ve said.” My words are a bit strangled.

“Afterwards, you went to show me something on your computer, and you accidentally still had the images up. I saw what it was. I’m not blind.”

“Goddammit,” I mutter, flushing hard.

“Listen,” he said, sitting up straight, “and look at me.” I do. “I don’t care that you’re gay. You’re still my roommate and my friend. Nothing is gonna change between us. It’s just another part of who you are, just like being Armenian is part of who Hagop is, and being a glutton is part of who Greg is.” We chuckle a bit at the offhanded joke. “And if anyone takes issue with who you are, they can answer to me. Okay?”

I nodded. God, this declaration was so over-the-top and cheesy. Why was I crying about it? I wiped my eyes. It’s so weird… his words shouldn’t mean anything… but yet there was this _weight_ on my chest that had just kinda vanished when he said all of that bull crap. I felt… I don’t know, freer? That wasn’t quite the right word… I guess I never really realized how much I was dreading what would happen if he actually found out… what he would say… if he knew how much I liked looking at him… And now he basically outright said he didn’t really care… that nothing had to change…

“So…” he began, “Is this Tyler guy your boyfriend then?”

“No,” I say reflexively, defensively, alarmed.

Nate sighs, clearly holding down a laugh. “I’m not your mom. And I’m not judging you. I’m just wondering if you plan on dating this guy.”

I sighed heavily, forcing myself to think about the situation. “Uh… no… not right now. I think we’re just friends right now. He doesn’t need me trying to… go out with… him while he’s dealing with this stuff.”

“That’s very considerate of you,” Nate says with a smirk.

“I… wouldn’t mind trying to go out with him, though…” I add quietly.

Nate chuckled, “Well, let me know if you do, so we can work out a plan for how to handle any ‘alone time’. I hear people use socks usually…”

I blinked at him. “Use socks? For what?”

“As a signal, to tell your roommate you’re… _doing things_ with your significant other.”

“Oh…” I’d never heard of this before. “Wait! Is that why Amir is always annoyed with his roommate whenever he leaves socks on the door handle?!”

Nate seemed surprised. “Yeah? What did you _think_ Amir was complaining about last week?”

“I don’t know, it didn’t really occur to me! I’m over here trying to survive on abstinence-only education, remember? You were there when Greg awkwardly taught me about how babies were made at lunch, right?!”

“I thought you were joking!” Nate exclaimed, flabbergasted.

“No!? Hello, I’m the only freak on our floor without a single swear word in his vocabulary!”

“Right, right…” Nate said, cupping his nose in his hands, "Jesus Christ… Well, now’s as good a time as any. Lemme go get Greg.”

“Oh my God,” I sighed as Nate promptly left the room.

* * *

The professor dismissed the class, and immediately people were getting up, closing notebooks, and throwing books into backpacks. I remained seated as I put my stuff away. My roommate threw his backpack on his back next to me. He was about to say something to me, probably about the lab assignment, when he spotted Tyler approaching the desk.

“I like the pin,” Nate said, tapping his own chest just below his collar bone, indicating something pinned in that spot on Tyler’s black hoodie.

“Oh!” Tyler squeaked, covering the gold and rainbow ribbon pin for a moment, before realizing what Nate had said and trying to pass the gesture off as an itch. “Uh… th-thanks… my grandma got it for me when I… uh…”

Nate snorted quietly, grinning, clearly keeping down a quip. He cleared his throat, “It looks good on you, dude.” He then slapped me twice on the back as he passed, and headed for the classroom door. Tyler watched him go, clearly flustered.

“Uh…” he asked, leaning towards me and lowering his already quiet voice, “Who was that?”

“My roommate,” I replied simply, with a smile.

“ _That’s_ your roommate?!” he repeated, surprised. He then added, even quieter, “You’re right, he _is_ hot…”

I covered my mouth to keep the laugh down. “And he’s straight,” I reminded him pointedly.

“I know, I know…” Tyler mumbled, his eyes on Nate’s backside, “I can still watch him walk away, though…”

We both broke out into giggle fits as I finished packing up and threw my backpack on. As we headed out of the classroom, I asked, at a normal volume, “So, how was the funeral?”

“Draining,” he replied dully, “Long, draining, and not fun.”

“I hear that’s usually how funerals go…”

“But, I did learn a lot about my family which I didn’t know before. It turns out I happened to be born into the homophobic branch of the tree. The branch that cut itself off from everyone else.” Tyler looked up at me to see if I was sufficiently intrigued, and I very much was. “My uncle, his _husband_ , and their three children also showed up to the funeral, apparently without invite since it was _my_ family organizing everything.”

“Oh no, was there a fight or something?” I asked, wide-eyed as we queued for the elevator.

“Oh, there were definitely sparks that flew,” Tyler said with a grimace, “My grandmother was very supportive of my gay uncle, even if my granddad wasn’t. My mom took over organizing the funeral immediately, against grandma’s wishes, and cut out my uncle and his family.”

The elevator came and a whole bunch of people got on. Tyler and I opted wordlessly to get the next elevator, where we’d be alone.

“So then,” Tyler continued, “when they showed up, there was a casket-side argument you could hear from outside the room.”

“Oh lord!”

“They tore into each other. My mom was going on about adopted children, even though my uncle’s family is mostly surrogates. She apparently doesn’t think his children are actually his, and therefore shouldn’t be included in grandma's inheritance. And mom was using some _colorful_ language in there. My uncle was going on about how she was every phobic thing under the sun… _I_ got brought up…”

“Of course.”

“Of course. He said she’s been abusing me and doesn’t actually love me. He actually assured me, in the middle of their fight, that he would gladly take me in if I ever got kicked out.”

“Oh, is that why you’re risking wearing your grandmother's pride pin instead of hiding it away in your backpack?” I ask with a grin.

Tyler once again reflexively slapped his hand over the little rainbow-colored pin. He smiled sheepishly, “Uh, yeah. He said he’d fully support any amount of deviance I did in defiance of my mother’s sensibilities.”

“Well, look at you, acting against authority with your…” I measured the size of his pin with my fingers, “…one-inch big pride pin, only worn while you’re eight-hundred-some miles away from your mother. Go rebellious stage!”

“Hey, hey!” he interjected, play-acting anger while trying to suppress a grin, “It’s an inch _and a quarter_ , for your information!”

“Oh, lord!” I laugh, “Someone call the cops on this insane teenage rebellion!”

The elevator arrived again, and we laughed as we stepped on board. I positioned myself at the button panel and pressed the button for the lower lobby. He positioned himself opposite me, next to the door. Our laughing waned as the door closed.

“Um, actually…” Tyler said, his eyes averted, licking his lips, “I wanted to ask you if… you’d wanna help me with this rebellion… by, uh… _pretending_ to be my boyfriend?”

“Oh,” I said. Boyfriend?! How long have we actually known each other?! A week or two at most?! What would my mother think?! What would other people think?! Surely this is some speed record for dating right?! Well, no, I guess some people specifically meet to date, but like that’s not what me and Tyler did, right? And my grandparents _met for the first time_ on their _wedding day_ , so like, that has to be the record, right? And it’s not like he’s actually asking for me to be a _real_ boyfriend, only a _pretend_ one, right? But like, what even _is_ a pretend boyfriend, and how does it differ from being a real one? Do they have to be emotionally supportive? Or is it just like the more naughty stuff that’s out of the picture? And what if I want the naughty stuff? And what if this pretend thing turns into a real thing, like it always does on those romantic comedy movies mom would always watch? Then we’d be real boyfriends. Like actual boyfriends. Would I mind that much, actually? I don’t know if I would…

Meanwhile, Tyler seemed to be having his own miniature freakout over what he just said. “Oh god, I’m sorry,” he said, turning and burying his face into his hands. “I know you said you weren’t even out yet. Why would I ask a not-out person to be a pretend boyfriend just to show off when you don’t want to be out yet? What is wrong with me? Why am I even like this?!” Was he fading from existence again? “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” it looked like he might go into a full-on panic attack or something, repeating his apology over and over again.

I stepped forward, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Tyler, please calm down. It’s fine.” I pulled him into a hug, pulling his face into my chest. His apologies stopped immediately, and his face flushed hard. After a moment, he wrapped his arms around me as well, running his hands tentatively along my back. “I don’t think I’m ready to be anyone’s… boyfriend…” I said, “but… if you wanna pretend I am to stick it to your mom, I don’t mind.”

“Oh… okay…” Tyler said, sounding a little defeated.

“And… you know… I…” I wasn’t sure how to express this without sounding desperate, “If you wanted to… try some things, you and I… I-I-I w-wouldn’t mind…”

“Oh…” Tyler said, sounding deeply distraught over the implication. He looked up at me, his face a maroon color, “Oh…” he repeated, with a strange sense of excitement in his voice.

The elevator door dinged, making us jump apart and stare at it. As the door opened, Tyler didn’t know what to do with his arms, and tried several positions before going with a tense-looking posture that had his hands folded down near his waistband. I held down a laugh about this. A random lecturer was on the other side of the elevator door. She was reading something intently, and only looked up when we didn’t immediately get out of the elevator. We exited quickly, and she got on, eying us curiously as the door closed.

“Goddammit, Jay,” Tyler whisper-shouted at once after the door closed, “You can’t spring stuff like that on me!” He was taking off his backpack and rummaging through it.

“Why, what’s the matter?” I asked, before spotting what it was he had been casually hiding with his folded hands before. “Oh! I’m sorry!”

“I still have class to go to!” he said irritatedly as he pulled out a large blue binder, put his backpack back on, and proceeded to hold the binder as nonchalantly as possible in front of his crotch.

“Well, if you didn’t wear sweatpants all the time, maybe it wouldn’t be so noticeable,” I grin.

“Sweatpants are comfy, though,” he said as we start making our way down the hallway side by side, “And it’s usually not a problem!”

“It’s fine, just think about something else. Like girls!” I joked, “Or about how you feel any time other guys try to talk about girls with you!”

Tyler made a sound somewhere between a growl and an elongated snort, then replied, “Okay, yeah, that might be helping.”

“Now think about all the homework you forgot to do for our next class.”

“Oh, God, did I, though?!” he said frantically, opening the binder he was holding, “There wasn’t much time for homework during all the funeral stuff…"

We step out into the lower lobby. My eyes are immediately drawn to the mirror wall. I stare at myself over Tyler’s head. The smile on my face looks different than it normally does, more relaxed, less strained. I see the cute guy walking next to me, and I’m tempted: I casually put my arm over his shoulder as we walk. In the mirror, it looks… _good_. Maybe I could get used to it…

Tyler’s either too distracted to notice my arm or doesn’t mind. He flips through his binder and finds the assignment he was looking for. He sighs, “Okay, I did do most of it. Could you help me with the last couple?”

“Sure,” I say. I push open the first door on the way out of the building, and he gets the second, as we start talking homework.

**Author's Note:**

> In the dream this story was based on, the guy's invisibility wasn’t some complicated poorly-conceived metaphor for denying seeing yourself reflected in someone else, or avoiding staring at your crush, or putting on a mask that you show the rest of the world, or anything like that; instead it was because the guy’s shader code had a bug in it that prevented it from compiling, and the mirrors replaced the shaders with their own when reflecting things, thus allowing anyone to see him in mirrors but not directly. Because I am a massive nerd.


End file.
